Page 51 of Five Minute Man
Chapter 25
With precise, carefulmovements, Holly gingerly got out of Liz’s car. After hours of being poked, prodded, x-rayed, and MRI’d, all she wanted to do was crawl into her own bed and sleep for a week or so.
One broken arm, three cracked ribs, and a deeply bruised hip and shoulder hurt like hell. The pain meds they had given her at the hospital, only after they had determined she did not have a serious concussion, did help somewhat, but not nearly enough. The ER doctor had taken pity on her and written a prescription that should help with that. Holly wasted no time in downing two of the pills within seconds of picking them up at the drive-thru pharmacy on the way home. Already, a very welcome, pleasant numbness was beginning to seep into her limbs, muting her pounding headache from a ten down to a seven on the tolerance scale.
“You should have stayed overnight,” Liz chastised, grabbing her overnight bag from the backseat and helping Holly into the house.
“I hate hospitals,” Holly groused.
“Everybody hates hospitals, Holly.”
“I want my own bed. I want Max.”I want Adam, she added silently.
“I know,” Liz exhaled, “but you’re stuck with me tonight. Brandon texted about two hours ago. He said he’ll bring Max over in the morning.”
“Did he say anything else?” Holly asked, hoping she didn’t sound as pathetic out loud as she did in her own head.
Given Brandon’s involvement, she had half-expected Adam to show up at the hospital, or to find him waiting for her when Liz had brought her home. He hadn’t shown. Granted, he hadn’t said he would, but after last night, she had assumed they would be getting together, maybe picking up where they had left off this morning.
“No,” Liz said quietly.
After seeing the look of sympathy in her eyes, Holly resolved not to ask again.I am not going to bethatgirl, she reminded herself.
It was just as well. She and Vicodin were going to be pretty tight for the next couple of hours, anyway.
Still, it would have been nice. Assuming he knew, that was. And whywouldn’the know? Brandon had been there on the scene and was watching Max, presumably at Adam’s house.
“Okay then. Thanks for hanging out tonight, Liz. Sucks for you, though, huh?”
“Like I had anything better to do,” Liz said, pulling off Holly’s socks and shoes. Liz was trying to keep things light, but Holly could see the worry in her eyes.
Everyone should have a bestie like Liz, she decided. Someone to have her back. To be there when she found herself in the hospital and needed a ride home.
“And no offense,” Liz continued, “but I’d rather be me than you right now.”
“Yeah, me, too,” Holly sighed, sinking into the pillow that still smelled like Adam. “Goodnight, Liz.”
“Goodnight, Holly.”
* * *
SUNLIGHT STREAMED THROUGHthe windows, searing his eyes. Adam rubbed at them, feeling as if he had been on one hell of a bender. It took him a couple minutes to get his bearings. He was in his bed, in his room, in his house, with absolutely no idea how he got there.
Adam dragged himself into the bathroom and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked like shit.What the hell happened last night?
He gripped the edge of the sink, gritting his teeth while willing the room to stop spinning. Adam didn’t do shitfaced. Yeah, he tossed back a few with the guys sometimes, but he certainly hadn’t been this out of it since he was a stupid kid. Like so many others, he had learned the hard way, but hehadlearned. He knew his limits, and he made sure he stayed well within them, especially with Brandon around.
He leaned over and splashed cold water on his face.Fuck!Why couldn’t he remember anything? Most of his mind was focused on trying to stay upright and conscious, but to be this hung over, he should be able to recall something. Where had he been? Who had he been with? What had he done?
It was all a blur. There were vague, fleeting glimpses, but they couldn’t possibly be right. They had to be nightmares because Adam wouldn’t have willingly doneanyof those things.
He needed answers, and he wasn’t going to find them in the porcelain a couple of inches from his nose. When he was relatively sure he could do so without face-planting on the floor, he pushed himself upright and took a deep breath. What he needed was caffeine and acetaminophen, preferably huge quantities of both. Then maybe he could get his shit together enough to figure this out.
It took one hand against the wall and all of his concentration to put one foot in front of the other, but he finally made it to the kitchen. Brandon was already there, sitting at the table. God bless the kid, he had made coffee.
Adam fixed himself a cup, sloshing more on the counter than he managed to get into his mug, then collapsed heavily into a chair. Even that brief foray from his bedroom to the kitchen had left him feeling drained and weak. His hand shook so badly he had trouble getting the mug to his mouth, which was probably just as well because the smell of the coffee brought the nausea back with a vengeance.
He closed his eyes, summoning every bit of self-control he had. He wasnotgoing to blow chunks like some teenager after his first bender.
